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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23019517">Like I love you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneBuzJane/pseuds/JaneBuzJane'>JaneBuzJane</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, Husbands in love, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester wears glasses, Lorenz takes many baths, M/M, Mentioned Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra, Mentioned Hilda Valentine Goneril, Mentioned Linhardt von Hevring</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:55:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,784</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23019517</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneBuzJane/pseuds/JaneBuzJane</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times that Claude walked in on Lorenz buffing out his (perceived) imperfections, and one time Lorenz threw beauty to the wind. </p>
<p> <em>A Claurenz 5+1 fic.</em></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Claude von Riegan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>180</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Like I love you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title from One Direction's <i>Little Things,</i> which destroyed me the first time I heard it and continues to make me softe to this day.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's six months after they've been married that Claude finds a purple spider in the baths, lurking behind Lorenz's dedicated tower of toilette essentials on the lip of the bathtub.</p>
<p>"<i>What,</i>" he exclaims hastily, shoving himself backwards, cursing the universe for whoever decided humans should bathe unclothed, vulnerable, and without weapons. "How did - " </p>
<p>The tiny wave he's created washes the spider off its perch and it floats, malevolently, towards his calf. </p>
<p>Ah, but. The water eases the coiled tangle of its legs, at which point Claude realizes it's not a spider at all, but a clump of hair. A tangled lump of unmistakably purple hair, forgotten on the side of a tub for an unsuspecting husband to find at a later time. </p>
<p>Claude chuckles at his own folly and scoops the large mess of hair out of the water, idly wondering how Lorenz has any hair left if this is the amount that he sheds every day.</p><hr/>
<p>"A thoughtful gift you gave me this morning, my love," Claude says that night, spooned up behind Lorenz, nosing gently at his husband's neck. "I'll admit that finding a violet spider in the baths was just the invigorating rush that I needed to start the day." </p>
<p>The sheets rustle as Lorenz rolls over to face him, a questioning arch in his perfect eyebrow. "Having recently made a study of the flora and fauna native to Almyra - a study that you recommended, may I remind you - I can say in confidence that there are no arachnids with violet coloring on this continent, and if you saw one, it was certainly not of my doing, and you should contact a healer at once to discuss the possible effects of aging on the mind." </p>
<p>The eyebrow flattens. "Perhaps von Hevring would know if any of the common listening spells take the appearance of purple spiders. I'd send a messenger wyvern at first light. A particularly spirited one, if you can, in the event that he has once again become too enamoured of his investigations into his father's dusty library." </p>
<p>Claude smiles and cups Lorenz's cheek in his hand, twining his fingers through silky purple hair. "You're absolutely correct, my dear. I'd say this particular variant was a, ah, transplant to the continent. Not native at all, though it certainly seemed at home." He sweeps over Lorenz's lower lip with his thumb, pressing gently into the plush skin and noting the darkening of Lorenz's gaze with no small amount of satisfaction. "I confess I had a passing regret that I didn't have my bow." </p>
<p>"What would you have done, engage the spider in a duel to the death?" Lorenz scoffs, draping his arm across Claude's side. He presses his lips together in the way that means he's found what Claude said to be amusing but doesn't want to encourage him. "You have excellent aim, of course, but I can't help but think that's a bit too harsh on the creature." </p>
<p>"Lorenz Hellman Gloucester," Claude says seriously, tugging on Lorenz's hair. "Do not tell me you're the kind of person who captures trespassing spiders and delivers them back to the wilds of their homelands." </p>
<p>A faint blush paints Lorenz's cheeks. "I do no such thing," he says haughtily, turning up his nose in a very pretty move. Claude can't help biting it, and Lorenz reels back with a rude oath that he most certainly learned elsewhere than the noble house of Gloucester, startling Claude into a burst of laughter. After a moment, Lorenz gives a reluctant huff of amusement and settles back down in Claude's arms. </p>
<p>"I only meant that this morning I discovered the rather hirsute remains of your toilette lingering in the bathtub." He pointedly blows at the lock of hair falling temptingly across Lorenz's brow. Lorenz's eyes widen a fraction, then his gaze skates off to the side, looking far too much like a child who'd stolen the last sweet from a communal tray. </p>
<p>"You now see why I insist that morning ablutions must have an audience of none?" Lorenz says, in a tone that would border on a whine if it was coming from anyone else. "You pester me for shared bathing time so often, yet give no thought to the necessary consequences of the lack of solitude!" </p>
<p>"Sweet, I pester you for shared bathing time because I thought you might like if I brought you off as you rested in the water," Claude murmurs, tipping Lorenz's chin upward. Lorenz's gaze meets his own, startlingly purple amidst the rose of his cheeks. He tests out a smile, counting it as a victory when Lorenz merely narrows his eyes. "You've otherwise made your stance quite clear." </p>
<p>"Yes, well," Lorenz blusters. Claude feels his eyebrows raising and his grin curling into something more dastardly than he planned. Lorenz tosses his hair back, freeing his face from Claude's grasp. "So we're on the same path, von Riegan, if you want to attempt something of that nature, you should plan it for an evening where we've already completed our daily maintenance." </p>
<p>"I shall speak to your secretary at once," Claude says gravely, kissing the tips of Lorenz's fingers. "Under what name should we book the appointment? 'Underwater tryst?' No, too fantastical. 'Wet spending' is far too lewd, of course, but -" </p>
<p>He smiles into Lorenz's abrupt kiss, giving in to the firm, unspoken request for silence.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div>"Lorenz, my sweet, did you leave a candle lit in our quarters again?" Claude calls out as he jogs down the corridor. There's no visible smoke as of yet, but the odor of burning fabric and hot wood is a sobering harbinger.<p>What he sees in their bedroom stops him short, and for the second time in as many weeks, he's flabbergasted. </p>
<p>"I did not," Lorenz says calmly, gently swiping a comb through his hair. But not a normal comb: this one is clunky, made of metal, and a charred towel lay on his dressing table. The far more interesting sight, however, is Lorenz's own hair. </p>
<p>Claude is familiar with Lorenz's tresses falling effortlessly down his back in a tumble of silk. Never once had he questioned the efforts - and there do seem to be efforts - behind their upkeep.</p>
<p>Half of Lorenz's hair is flattened into something resembling his daily, sleek look. The other half has poofed into something resembling the top of a dandelion, and Claude briefly entertains the idea of Lorenz casting his arms to the sky and floating away on the breeze. </p>
<p>Lorenz meets his gaze in the mirror. "As you can see, there are no open flames here, von Riegan. No need to sound the alarm bells just yet." He remains quite still, unblinking, and Claude somehow manages to find his voice. </p>
<p>"I find that to be untrue," he says, resting his hands on Lorenz's shoulders in a desperate bid for normalcy. "As the mere sight of you manages to stoke the fires of my ardor for you ever higher."  </p>
<p>Lorenz rolls his eyes and gently shrugs Claude off. "I'm quite sure," he says drily, considering the comb for a moment. To Claude's surprise, he holds his hand underneath the comb to heat it with a cleverly applied fire spell. When he tests the temperature against the towel, a tiny smoking piece of fabric browns and curls in on itself. </p>
<p>"The most reticent of my subjects," Lorenz grumbles. "After all these years, it still fails to heat properly." After a moment, Lorenz picks out a lock of his hair to drag it through the teeth of the comb. He takes a brief pause to admire the newly straightened piece in the mirror before beginning with another dandelion section. The repetitive movement of the comb through his hair is soothing, and Claude wonders how many years he’s been arranging his hair as such.</p>
<p>"It seems the truth behind your lance drills has finally revealed itself," Claude pipes up. "You needed the arm strength to carry that tool in one hand. Goddess, isn't that heavy?" </p>
<p>Lorenz's smile turns smug. "The worst trial of it all is attempting to straighten the rear section of hair. Would you believe I have to hold a mirror up as well as the comb?" Claude makes the appropriate noises of dismay. "Indeed. But it must be done," he says, with a tone of finality and the air of a martyr. Claude hides a smile and smothers the <i>Must it?</i> that rises to his lips.</p>
<p>"What if I very generously offered my assistance with the rear portion today?" Claude asks, skimming his hands down Lorenz's shoulders. He masterfully avoids a joke about Lorenz's rear. "You have that meeting with Ferdinand in..." he glances outside. "Half a bell or so." Lorenz's eyes widen.</p>
<p>"Sothis' tears, I've no time left!" Lorenz snaps, but Claude catches his hand before it can heat the comb any farther. </p>
<p>"Let me," he says. Lorenz bites his lip, meeting Claude's gaze in the mirror, then reluctantly hands the implement over. The smooth rosewood handle is heavy in Claude's palm, and the air above the metal teeth shimmers with heat. </p>
<p>"Do take care to refrain from burning my hair to cinders," Lorenz says stiffly. "A wig is not a flattering accessory on <i>anyone.</i>"</p>
<p>Claude shakes his head, lifting up a lock of Lorenz's hair with a finger. "Ah, you say that, but can you deny that some of the shades in Dorothea's opera wardrobe would complement your colorin -" </p>
<p>"That section is too large." </p>
<p>Claude blinks. "Pardon?" </p>
<p>"That section of hair. It needs to be smaller for the comb to heat it properly." Claude tilts his head, considering, then lets half of the hair flutter back down to rest upon Lorenz's neck. </p>
<p>"Better?" </p>
<p>"Hardly, but considering we are behind schedule on a very tight itinerary, I suppose that must do." Acceptable, then. Carefully, Claude sweeps the comb through Lorenz's hair, impressed despite himself at the easy glide. </p>
<p>Lorenz leg bounces. Impulsively, Claude leans forward to press his lips to Lorenz's head in a soft kiss, but - </p>
<p>"By the <i>Gods!</i>" His husband's hair is scorching hot, and Claude's lips the casualty of their brief contact with it. </p>
<p>Lorenz whirls, grabbing his arm. "Claude, darling. Are you alright?" Claude gently rolls his lips together, wincing. </p>
<p>"I'll survive." He eyes the hot comb with distrust. "You let that thing near your <i>face?</i>" </p>
<p>Lorenz hums. "The lengths one must go to in order to present a flawless appearance must not be underestimated," he says.</p>
<p>"Truly, I'll never misbehave around your tools again," Claude promises, and reaches around Lorenz to set the comb down on the granite top of the dressing table. As he pulls back, Lorenz grasps his hand, turning it over in his own. His eyes flick up to meet Claude's, and Claude swears his heart kicks into overdrive at the relieved, affectionate shine he sees there.</p>
<p>"Perhaps I could tempt you with a frisson of misbehavior. Those lips of yours do look rather swollen; perhaps they need a healer’s touch?" </p>
<p>Claude smiles. "What was it you said when we first started courting? 'Even a divine statue requires the occasional repairs by nature of the faithful worship of the devout?'" </p>
<p>Pink dusts the bridge of Lorenz's nose. "Not a line that I'm immensely proud of, to be sure, but as I remember it, you so <i>desperately</i> wanted an excuse to fall to your knees before me that I only saw fit to give you one." </p>
<p>Charmed, Claude chuckles. "That's how I remember it too." He leans into the emboldened press of Lorenz's lips against his own. </p>
<p>"And you’re still searching for excuses?" Lorenz asks as he draws back, smiling coyly in the way that drives Claude to distraction with all the hidden amusements tucked in its corners. </p>
<p>Claude laughs outright. "You've caught me there, haven't you, Gloucester?" He cups the back of Lorenz's neck and bends down for another kiss. "Mmm, my love. What will our dear Prime Minister say if you're late?" </p>
<p>"I daresay he'll have wisdom enough to hold his tongue, given that I once overheard him and von Vestra being intimate in an empty Council chamber."</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div>"I," Claude says. "You."<p>Lorenz looks up at Claude over his gold-rimmed glasses. "Yes?" </p>
<p>"The," Claude manages, waving his own hand near his face. Lorenz slips a finger in his book and closes it, resting it gently on his crossed knee. </p>
<p>"Am I to presume there was a question in that statement? Surely there must be a reason that you see fit to interrupt me during my daily nap."</p>
<p>"I see a distinct lack of any sleeping going on," Claude says, mouth dry. </p>
<p>Lorenz sighs a put-upon sigh. "If you <i>must</i> know, I do sometimes require a bit of..." He twirls his hand, searching for a word, and Claude's attention is drawn to a fine, glittering chain attached to his purple brocade vest. "Fluff, that's it. I occasionally require fluff to quiet my mind before I can rest." </p>
<p>Claude narrows his eyes, then swiftly ducks to get a look at the book's title. Lorenz gasps and jams it down the side of the overstuffed armchair, trapping it neatly between the arm and his own body. "Claude, please! Afford your husband the small modicum of privacy he deserves!" </p>
<p>"You seem to have privacy figured out just fine," Claude says, perching on the arm of the armchair, "Given that you've been hiding <i>these</i> from me for Goddess only knows how long." He taps the bridge of Lorenz's glasses. Lorenz flushes, but shoves the book deeper out of Claude's reach. </p>
<p>"I only require them to read fine print," Lorenz says, a bit stuffily. "I can visualize the length and breadth of a battlefield with perfect clarity, I assure you."</p>
<p>"I never doubted you!" Claude places a hand over his heart. "You just took me by surprise, love. They look quite stunning on you." They really do: the frames are round, but curve out around the outside edges to soften the look. <i>It's not,</i> Claude thinks, tilting Lorenz's jaw up, <i>unlike the eyes of a cat.</i> </p>
<p>Lorenz sniffs. "They ought to. I paid extra for the decoration." And sure enough, as Claude looks closer, he can see tiny roses and vines inscribed upon the outer edges. </p>
<p>"Clever of the craftsman to ensure the beauty of their work doesn't overshadow that of the wearer," Claude says. The soft light of the room glints off of the rims of the spectacles as Lorenz tosses his hair over his shoulder. </p>
<p>"As if I'd settle for the work of a mere apprentice," he scoffs. </p>
<p>"How long have you worn them?" Claude asks. Lorenz furrows his brow. The glasses slide down his nose, and Claude is quick to hide his smile. </p>
<p>"Let me see... ah, I've worn some form of them since we were at Garreg Mach, but I only recently purchased these. Our investments in the Gloucester stables are finally paying off, thank the Goddess. We received several offers for our stallions we put out to stud, and I really <i>do</i> think we should consider that wyvern eyrie idea more closely, because if the profits are anywhere close to what we -" Claude sifts through the misdirection.  </p>
<p>"Did the other ones break? Shatter?" He asks curiously. Lorenz is frivolous, but not wasteful. </p>
<p>"Not as such," Lorenz says evasively. He shifts, and his posture suddenly becomes more awkward, akin to his stork-like proportions he tried so hard to cover up while they were in school. </p>
<p>"No," Claude muses. "Of course not. It's simply that they looked terrible on you, isn't it?" Lorenz's jaw clenches. His hands curl up into fists. Claude waits patiently.</p>
<p>"They were also scratched!" Lorenz bursts out. "And - and the lenses were so thick that one could barely see through them! Milky crystal instead of glass, I swear it, my father went with the cheapest pair he could conceivably find. Thank Sothis I never had to wear them in public. It would've been unbearable." </p>
<p>Claude has a vision of a school-age Lorenz sitting cross-legged on his bed, squinting at a page in a dusty tome by the weak light of a candle through spectacles the size of saucers. His heart gives a particularly strong <i>thud.</i></p>
<p>"Who knows," Claude says, tucking a strand of Lorenz's hair behind his ear. "It might have made you more approachable to our classmates whose hearts you tried so desperately to steal." </p>
<p>The furrow between Lorenz's brows deepens. "I only really ever had eyes for you, at any rate," he admits. </p>
<p>"When you could see me, that is," Claude says slyly, and yelps as Lorenz pushes him off the armchair. "To think!" Claude continues, laughing, "Had you the crystal clear vision of your peers, perhaps you would have been able to know me for the scoundrel I am before we wed."</p>
<p>"I'm retiring to my chambers now," Lorenz announces to the room at large, grabbing his book. "You are <i>not</i> invited." </p>
<p>"Are you going to nap, or read your naughty book?" Claude asks, propping himself up on an elbow. "If it's the latter, I formally request to join you. I also must insist that you continue to wear those glasses."</p>
<p>Lorenz wheels around. "Claude!" he hisses. </p>
<p>"Perfect," Claude says. "Just like that, yes." </p>
<p>"<i>How</i> -" </p>
<p>"The title is visible in Fhirdiad, love," Claude says. "You forgot to wipe the text enlargement spell."</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div>The fourth time it happens, Lorenz is delicately painting his lips with a red stain that make him look like he's just bitten into the most succulent berry. With the way that the front of Claude's trousers tightens spectacularly, he reasons that he can't be entirely blamed for bending Lorenz over the washbasin to tease every last trace of it from his mouth.<div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div>Claude eyes the tantalizing line of Lorenz's leg, propped upon the side of the tub. "Not that I'm complaining, but what's the occasion?" he asks. Lorenz drags a straight razor through the foam lathering his leg, then rinses it off in the water.<p>"No occasion," he says, looking at Claude from under his lashes."Merely another addition to today's maintenance." </p>
<p>Another swathe of milky skin is revealed to Claude's intent gaze. A thought floats to the forefront of his mind. "I suppose I've never asked," he says slowly. "But watching you now... you don't grow hair on your face, do you?" </p>
<p>The corner of Lorenz's mouth twists up in a wry smile. "I'm surprised you noticed. I do not, no. I used to, of course, it's just that I found it so unsightly and the grooming so tiring that I conspired with von Hevring to place a permanent depilatory spell on my jaw and neck." He tilts his head, and a tendril of hair escapes the bun atop his head. "Rather, the spell had permanent effects. It was not a permanent spell." </p>
<p>"I caught the meaning," Claude says, frowning. "Why stop at your face, then?" It comes out sharper than he intends, but Lorenz doesn't seem to notice. </p>
<p>"He said it wasn't yet ready to be applied to a large area," Lorenz says airily. "He made some noise about how he needed to tinker with it a bit more, but, well. Then the war happened, and I assume he hasn't had a chance to pick it back up again. Did you know he had plans to affix it to a semi-permanent balm and sell it?" </p>
<p>Lorenz laughs, but it rings hollow in Claude’s ears; all he can think about is his own result of a particularly ill-fated Academy experiment: a caustic burn scar on his forearm.  </p>
<p>"Let me get this straight," Claude says, struggling to stay calm. "You let Linhardt von Hevring - known experimental mage - apply a newly created spell to your face while we were at the Academy, and the only thing stopping you from asking him to slather your whole body in it was the fact that he still needed to fine-tune it." </p>
<p>The rhythmic glimmer of the razor stops its journey along Lorenz's skin, and it's Lorenz's turn to frown. "You're upset." </p>
<p>"Well spotted," Claude says. "Excellent, really, I can't believe they passed you over for field tactician." Lorenz's lip curls. </p>
<p>"You have no problem with the heated comb that I regularly wield near my face." </p>
<p>"That's different," Claude says curtly. </p>
<p>"Why in the Goddess's name do you care at all about something that happened so long ago?" </p>
<p>"Because I honestly can't believe you'd put your <i>life</i> in danger for your thrice-damned vanity, Lorenz!" Claude snaps. </p>
<p>Silence falls. </p>
<p>Lorenz places the razor on the lip of the tub, then stands. Caught up in his irritation, Claude can't even bring himself to appreciate his husband's body, and he looks away. Lorenz wraps himself in a towel, then begins to drain the bath. </p>
<p>"In your vows, you called me beautiful," Lorenz says. There's a brittle quality to his voice. "I shall forgive you for your all-too-pedestrian assumption that my beauty is something I cultivate for the value of others. In fact, von Riegan, I take great pride in putting my best foot forward at all times, audience or no. And to what end is none of your concern." </p>
<p>He wipes the remaining foam lather from his legs with another towel. His hands are trembling. Claude rises, already contrite. "I -" </p>
<p>"Forgive me the weighty assumption that your view of my person would not tarnish should you see the effort I put into my appearance," Lorenz says loudly, stopping him. His speech is too polished for comfort, falling back on learned cadences and antiquated turns of phrase. "I shall finish my toilette in the retainer's baths. Please endeavor to be deep in slumber by the time I return." </p>
<p>He strides out of the bath with his head held high and doesn't bother to close the door behind him. Claude spots a faint wisp of watery blood trailing from a nick on the back of his calf.</p>
<p>With a gurgle, the last of the water swirls down the drain, and Claude rests his head in his hands with a curse.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div>"Better luck next time!" Claude yells triumphantly, reverberations from his parry against the insurgent's strike shivering through his palms. The swordsman does indeed look surprised at this turn of events, right before Claude's axe cleaves through the mail on his shoulder like a hot knife through butter.<p>Down he goes, and Claude wheels around to block another incoming blow with a grunt. Steel and iron meet with a <i>clang!</i> Claude smells the rancid tang of sweaty leather from the soldier's armor, cultivated by their hours-long bake in the sun while they pretended to have fallen on the battlefield - only to attack the first post-battle patrol. </p>
<p>Lorenz had been with him. Where was - where was his husband? The rest of their patrol?</p>
<p>The soldier relies his superior weight and height, bearing down on Claude's axe with all of his might. Sweat drips from his brow onto Claude's face, but with a grimace, Claude hooks his leg around the soldier's ankle and pulls. </p>
<p>Claude's axe bites into the man's thigh. With a howl, he is done. </p>
<p>An arrow thuds into the blood-soaked, trampled earth by his feet. The beat of leathery wings on the breeze, carrying with it the earthy musk of scale oil - wyverns, flying out of the sun! </p>
<p>Cursing their positions - he can't get a good look at them without the light searing his eyes - Claude takes off at a run, making for the medical tents at the edge of the field even as his mind races to wonder how the wyvern patrols knew the timing of their battleground patrols for the dead. </p>
<p>He touches a small sigil on his wrist. "Hilda. Our wyverns -" </p>
<p>"On it!" she chirps in his ear. "They're just saddling up. We've got archers on ours too, just - <i>duck!</i>" </p>
<p>Claude tosses his axe aside, yanks Failnaught from his back, and instinctively stumbles into a crouch, hitting the churned earth with a force that knocks the breath from his chest. The wyvern's talons rake across his back and its rider shrieks with rage, circling their mount back to grab him once more. </p>
<p>Claude's back is agony, trails of fire that burn him down to his core. With a gasp, he staggers upright, knowing that he will not make it to the edge of the field before the wyvern reaches him again. </p>
<p>His gaze flits across the battlefield, across scores of uniforms in all the colors he could imagine and the ones he never wanted to. Above him, the wyvern's screech pierces the cloudless blue sky, and Claude shades his eyes, grasping for an unbroken arrow in his thigh quiver.</p>
<p>He spots the distinctive shine of sunlight on a bone relic as a purple-and-gold blur rides past him. </p>
<p>"Begone with you!" Lorenz bellows, cultured noble's voice cracking with the force of his fury. Thyrsus gleams as Lorenz brings his horse up sharply and makes an arcane gesture; the wyvern's legs and half of a wing are incinerated with the thunderous <i>crack!</i> of fire magic. </p>
<p>The wyvern and its rider tumble from the sky, and in the distance, Claude can see friendly wyvern soldiers approaching at a furious clip over the rise. With more pressing things to worry about, the enemy wyvern masters abandon their assault of the troops on the ground and prepare for aerial combat. </p>
<p>Lorenz dismounts his horse in a half-slide, half fall that has Claude fairly impressed. His husband abandons his normal stately bearing and races towards Claude, who watches him in a faint daze, head full of cotton. </p>
<p>"Claude," Lorenz says, a choked sob forcing its way out of his throat. "Darling. You - you're alright?" </p>
<p>"Better now that you're here," Claude says without thinking. Normally such a line would make Lorenz's face twist into a disgusted scowl, but now, he simply sighs, hands fluttering around Claude's shoulders like he's unsure of where to touch. </p>
<p>"I thought you'd been had," Lorenz murmurs, too quiet for the battlefield. His eyes are amethysts in the sun as he uses Thyrsus to cast a preliminary healing on Claude's back, and the ice-cold relief of his skin beginning to knit itself together makes Claude pitch forward into Lorenz's arms with a groan. </p>
<p>"Claude!" Lorenz gasps, taking a half-step backwards with the weight. "Are you sure you...?" </p>
<p>Armor isn't comfortable to lay his face upon. Distantly, Claude notes this fact, then sighs, and drags himself upright. </p>
<p>Lorenz peers down at him, worrying his lip in an ugly habit he'd been forced to break in his childhood. Smears of soot mar his cheeks, and one of his eyebrows has been half-singed off - presumably with the same fire that melted together the plates on his left arm. Blood drips from a graze at his temple, but Lorenz shakes it out of his eyes with a toss of his sweat-matted hair that's so familiar, Claude can't help but grasp his neck and bring him down for a kiss. </p>
<p>"Should wear a helmet," he says against Lorenz's mouth. "You're not immune to arrows, you know." Lorenz laughs, drawing Claude closer as he gingerly buries his head in Claude's neck. </p>
<p>"I'll have you know that my hair looks dreadful once it's been crumpled under a helmet," he says. There's an edge of hysteria in his voice. </p>
<p>The wyverns' roars and the twang of bowstrings above underscore the silence around the two of them, a bubble of peace on a forgotten battlefield. Lorenz's eyelashes brush tears upon the column of Claude's neck each time he blinks.</p>
<p>Words turn to ashes in Claude's mouth as every emotion he's ever had, both soothing and passionate, volatile and calm, wells up in his throat with a force that threatens to consume him.</p>
<p>"You are my world," Claude says hoarsely. "Lorenz, truly. I - you're never more beautiful, more <i>you,</i> than when you're happy. As long as you know joy, I can't help but..." For once, Claude's voice fails him.</p>
<p>With a shuddering sigh, Lorenz rights himself. Tear tracks mar the soot stains on his face. He carefully pushes back Claude's hair with a greaved hand, cupping his cheek tenderly. The world stills. Claude feels his breath leave his chest.</p>
<p>"So long as you're a part of my life, there will always be joy," Lorenz says. "For you gave me confidence in times when I had none." His voice is hesitant, uncertain, laying himself bare and hoping Claude does not find him wanting. Claude knows with certainty that he will never love another quite like this.</p>
<p>He clears his throat. "That the only reason, then?"</p>
<p>Lorenz pinches his cheek. "Cad," he says weakly. "I love you. I know that must be quite a weighty - Claude, do <i>not</i> pretend to faint at my amorous confession. Claude - <i>Claude!</i>"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Wow I can't believe Linhardt von Hevring and Lorenz Hellman Gloucester canonically invented Nair </p>
<p>Come yell with me about Fire Emblem on Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/JaneBuzJane">@JaneBuzJane!</a></p>
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